Blame it on the Rain
by jenwin23
Summary: After talking to Jaha, Bellamy starts avoiding Clarke in camp and sets off an unforeseen chain of events that force him to rethink what direction he's going in. Set post S01E8, cannon until then. Rating for language, some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**_Blame it on the Rain_**

**_Summary: After talking to Jaha, Bellamy starts avoiding Clarke in camp and sets on an unforeseen chain of events that force him to rethink what direction he's going in._**

_Set post S01E8, cannon until then, whatever the hell I want after that point._

_There just wasn't enough fighting in my other story, Either/Or, so when this idea came to me, the opportunity to write them sparring was too much to resist. I have chapters 1-3 written and 4 is half done, still working on how to write the ending I want._

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_**Chapter**__** 1**_

"You've been avoiding me," Clarke said without preamble, a thread of annoyance in her tone as she stepped out of the rain into the tent that was Bellamy's headquarters. Her expression was one of guarded neutrality, the seriousness in her eyes trained on Bellamy, even as she wiped away the moisture from her forehead, her blonde hair curling around her shoulders, soaking the shoulders of her jacket.

Miller, Liza, Derek and a few others looked from Clarke to Bellamy, then back again before exiting the tent, not needing more than two seconds to decide that they'd rather face the icy cold than the awkwardness and tension between their two leaders.

"I'm not avoiding you, Princess, just busy. This camp doesn't run itself," Bellamy dismissed her with an imperious glance then returned his attention to the maps on the table before him.

"You've been avoiding me, so let's just get it out in the open, deal with it and get back to normal," she said resolutely.

"There is no 'it' and there is no 'normal' here, Princess."

She leveled a hard look at him. He always had to make things so difficult. "Look, Bellamy, just tell me. What did I do? Or not do? Let's get it out of the way, people are starting to notice." She'd thought they'd turned a corner, earned enough trust in each other to avoid these pointless conversations where he played the role of imperious leader and she played the role of bleeding heart humanitarian after the trip to the FEMA shelter, the confrontation with Dax, Bellamy's emotional reaction to killing the boy, all culminating in Clarke convincing Bellamy to talk to Jaha, and convincing Jaha to pardon Bellamy.

He ignored her and Clarke gritted her teeth together. "You're wrong you know. There is a normal. The sun rises, we get up and try to eke out a life here, the sun goes down and those of us who survived the day try to get some rest to get up and start all over again the next day."

He shook his head. "That's what I'm doing. Trying to keep us alive. As you keep harping on, we need to store up a significant amount of food for the winter, that won't happen by standing around talking," he said dismissively and swept past her. "The sun doesn't shine here every day, Princess, and it's only going to get harder to hunt as the weather gets worse."

Clarke reached out and grabbed his arm. She knew she couldn't stop him by force, but she hoped he would stop nonetheless. "Bellamy... if I did something..." She looked up at him steadily, but he avoided her gaze, only glancing at her with annoyance before looking towards the tent flap. "Bellamy... if I did something... or said something…"

"You didn't do anything. No, that's wrong, you do a lot for the camp." He shored up his resolve and looked her in the eye. "There's no problem, Clarke, we're both just busy. So get back to work and stop trying to create trouble where there is none. God knows we have enough already. Now get back to the drop ship and try to stay dry, the lat thing we need is you getting sick," he said, pausing only long enough for to get the words out then exiting the tent, the flap falling back into place, leaving her alone.

Clarke frowned. Something was wrong, she knew it. She felt it. And she'd learned to trust her instincts in the weeks they'd spent on Earth. Who to trust, who not to trust. (Even after her mistake with Finn.) Who could be counted as an ally, and who to avoid.

The problem was Bellamy was harder to read than most, and she was only able to lead with Bellamy's support, the class divisions on the Ark having created ingrained prejudice and dislike against her. With the rift between them growing, Clark wasn't sure how much longer she'd have enough clout in camp to be effective as their second leader and their healer.

Some of the distrust and dislike aimed at her might not be fair, stemming from the class disparities on the Ark that she had no control over and no hand in creating, but she still had to deal with it. She tried to content herself that it wasn't about her. However, she was self aware enough to know that some people just didn't like her- her attitude, her butting into situations they felt she had no business involving herself in, or just how she spoke or looked.

That hurt a bit more, but Clarke was too busy doing things to spend time and effort on making people like her. She had learned to think more before she spoke since they had crash landed on the ground and some of her words had caused unnecessary problems.

He was doing a good job, had been for awhile now, but it had been there coming together as co-leaders that had stabilized the camp and swung them away from chaos and towards an organized society that had a chance at survival. Clarke didn't like it, but she was a realist (though Bellamy would probably call her an idealist) and she knew she needed Bellamy's support to get things done.

Case and point, she needed to go get more seaweed. She was worried that the plant would die at the first cold snap which could come any day if the Old Farmer's Almanac that Finn had found on one of his excursions was reliable after the nuclear holocaust that had reshaped the continent and the world. She'd been trying to get one of Bellamy's security team to go with her for the last two days.

They'd made it a rule, one of the few that the camp had, no one went outside the gate alone and no one ventured away from camp without a gun. Since Bellamy's people had the guns, she'd tried to get one of them to accompany her, but she'd been rebuffed.

Miller and Derek had ignored her no matter how many times she asked. Connor had said he was busy. Liza had told her no and shoved past her. Jones had told her to ask Bellamy first. (But of course she couldn't find Bellamy to ask him, since he had been avoiding her no matter how much he denied it.) Myles and Monroe had been the night shift on the fence and were sleeping making Drew was her last chance, and she hadn't been willing to take no for an answer.

She'd tracked him down in the forest just outside of camp, cutting down logs to reinforce the fence. He'd denied her request, but she'd kept at him, trying to make him see how important it was. When that failed she'd gotten in his way, trying to stop him from walking away from her.

"Just give me two hours. That's all it will take," she pleaded, hating that she sounded desperate.

"I said no, now get the fuck back to camp."

"Drew, listen, we need it. What if someone gets hurt? I won't be able to stop infections."

She could admit she had misjudged. She put herself in his path when he'd tried to barrel past her. She'd been overconfident. She was used to standing up to Bellamy, getting in his way with words and her body, when necessary, to make her point. He'd never hurt her. But Drew didn't stop to avoid her, just knocked her out of his way, sending her tumbling onto a ragged tree stump before falling to the ground. He'd paused, but hadn't offered to help her up or inquired if she was hurt, just marched away to another tree.

She'd picked herself up and gone back to her work, trying to put the miserable day behind her. The next morning as soon as she'd checked on her current patients, she'd gone to find Bellamy. His people had never liked her, but feeling free to knock her around was a serious deterioration of the status quo.

Bellamy could fix it with a word, but he wouldn't. Either he was as busy as he'd said, or his people were carrying out his will. Or both. Clarke had no idea what she had done to upset Bellamy. They'd gone to the FEMA bunker together. She'd thought they'd had a breakthrough of sorts in their partnership. Agreeing on bringing guns back to camp. Fighting off Dax's attack. She'd asked him to come back to camp with her, said she needed him, and he'd come.

Despite his belief that as soon as any of the Ark populous came down he was dead, he'd come back. Knowing that his fears were a real possibility, and not willing to let that threat hang over his head, Clarke had gone to bat for him with Jaha. But the very next day, Bellamy had started giving her the cold shoulder.

Maybe he'd gotten what he wanted from her, and now he didn't have to pay lip service to listening to her. She'd convinced the Chancellor, a man she'd known her whole life and had considered family until he'd floated her father and locked her up, to pardon Bellamy for attempted murder. Bellamy was a strategic thinker, he would have considered all the angles.

Clarke exited the command center tent, idly wrapping an arm around her middle, feeling the soreness that had set in from her fall the previous day. Looking around the camp she assessed her options.

She didn't even know half of their names. It hadn't seemed worth it to extend herself to get to know people who only glared at her or ignored her. She'd meet them all eventually, once they got hurt and needed her help.

Monty would go with her if she asked, but she knew he was busy working with Raven trying to amplify the electricity from the drop ship's solar panels and battery. Jasper was still afraid to leave camp and would be jumpy the whole time, and frankly he might be more of a liability if the Grounders did show up. Finn was laid up, healing from his stab wound. Octavia still wasn't talking to her (or Bellamy or Raven) because they'd hurt the Grounder she believed had saved her life.

Clarke's musing were cut short when she heard Emily shout her name. A few inches shorter than Clarke, she was only 15 years old and had been locked up for murder at the tender age of 13. Emily had been reluctant to talk about it, but eventually she'd opened up to Clarke. According to her, she'd been raped by one of the guards on the Ark and had stabbed him to death while he'd gotten dressed afterwards. The Council hadn't believed her and had locked her up until her 18th birthday, but instead they had sent her to Earth.

Clarke was inclined to believe the girl. Emily didn't like being touched and was afraid of men. She'd slept in the trees their first week on the ground, trying to make sure no one snuck up on her. Eventually she'd taken up a spot in Clarke's tent, and had volunteered to work for Clarke in the medbay (such as it was) rather than be assigned to gather food and firewood outside the fence with the others.

Clarke entered the drop ship to find a large guy she didn't know with blood covering his forearm. Emily was cowering in the back corner of the area designated for medical treatments and supplies. "Emily, can you get the alcohol ready," Clarke asked, looking at the cut quickly. "What's your name?"

"Who gives a fuck what my name is, just fix it, bitch."

Clarke's mouth tightened into a straight line, but she didn't respond to the surly male. Getting the container of clean water she kept filled at all times, she poured it over the cut, trying to clean away any debris. When Emily brought over the container of alcohol that Jasper had brewed up extra strong for medical purposes, Clarke used it to sterilize her hands, then probed the cut carefully. "You'll need some stitches," she declared.

"No shit. If that is an example of your medical expertise, we're all fucked."

Stifling her own retort, Clark doused a bandage with the alcohol. "This will hurt," she warned before swiping the cloth over her patient's cut.

He cursed jumping to his feet and jerked his arm upwards and away from her, pushing her back in the process. Clark was startled by the violent reaction but moved towards him again, the rag with the disinfectant held out before her. "I need to-"

She never finished explaining that the disinfectant would reduce the chance of infection, because her patient backhanded her, sending her stumbling backwards and to the side, feeling the startling burst of pain radiate through her jaw then recede to a dull ache. Emily made a high pitched noise more like a fearful small animal than a human and stood as still as she could several feet behind Clarke.

The boy glared at Clarke and grabbing several of the bandages from where she'd set them for wrapping his wound, stormed out of the drop ship. Clarke turned to Emily, rolling her jaw side to side to ease the pain. Emily started to shake until it was full blown tremors. Clarke approached her slowly, speaking softly. "Hey, it's OK, it barely hurt. I'm fine," Clarke lied, running her hands gently over the frightened girl's arms. "You're safe here."

Emily sank to her heels, hugging her skinny legs to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. "No one is safe here. We're all going to die."

Clarke dropped to her knees before her, trying to convey reassurance through her steady gaze. "We're working on preventing that, Em. You just have to hang in there. We'll take care of each other."

"I thought... I thought you were safe. You're from Phoenix. You're important. Bellamy... likes you," Emily forced out through chattering teeth.

"Bellamy respects me," Clarke corrected, wondering if she was lying again.

-The 100-

Once she had gotten Emily settled down, tucking her away at the top of the drop ship to 'help' Raven and Monty, Clarke packed her bag. She needed to get out of camp and she needed more seaweed. The asshole who had hit her would likely be back with an infected wound, and they were already running low from the amount she'd used on Jasper, Finn and a few others who had sustained more serious injuries working around camp or gotten caught up in Grounder traps.

The argument for never leaving camp alone, and never venturing very far without a gun, was protection. But Clarke didn't need any more proof that she was not protected inside the camp or by their defense team. She would be safer on her own at this point, and she really needed the time alone to calm down and regain her equilibrium. Anger and frustration built inside her until she was ready to scream, but it was the acrid taste of fear in the back of her throat that really upset her.

The safety of the camp had always been relative, but Clarke no longer felt safe there. She just felt alone.

Glancing up at the sky and seeing that the rain was likely over for the day, she gathered her pack and fell in step behind a group that was heading out to gather the logs Drew and Derek were cutting in the forest. Clark followed until she was out of sight of the Bellamy's people on guard duty. Veering away from the group, she headed towards the stream where the water pooled, providing the right environment for the seaweed to grow.

She hadn't been in the forest alone after that first day when she'd ventured off to find a vantage point and discovered that they had landed way off course. She knew Earth was dangerous, but it was also beautiful, achingly beautiful. The trees, the smells, even the feel of the ground below her feet that the leaves of the various plants she stopped to inspect called to her. This was their home. Earth.

She knew she'd never return to space again. She would live or die here, on the ground.

As she walked her thoughts quieted, but it wasn't peace that swept over her, but a soul deep grief.

She'd made the first trip to the stream with Finn and Wells, and the memories made her throat ache with unshed tears. Finn had lied to her. A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. He'd made her party to hurting Raven, a girl that Clarke respected deeply even though they'd just met. Clarke understood that he'd thought Raven was lost to him, but from the first moment she'd met him on the drop ship, he had pursued her, and never given any indication that he was already involved with someone else.

And Wells. Her best friend had lied to her to protect her from a worse truth. She'd been horrible to him, punishing him for betraying her, causing her father's death, even after he followed her on the suicide mission to Earth and just when she'd learned the truth he'd been killed. He'd been a constant in her life before she'd been confined. Born only a few months apart, they'd grown up together, their parents' friendship naturally extending to them.

They'd run through the halls of Phoenix together, studied together, and been there for each other through childhood heartbreaks. Their friendship had survived Wells' changing feelings for her, and Clarke had held Wells' hand and let him cry on her shoulder while his mother's health rapidly deteriorated after her diagnosis with cancer. She'd thought they would always have each other's backs, until the day her father was executed and Wells let her believe he was responsible.

She'd been busy since his death, going from crisis to crisis with Bellamy and Finn, able to push back the anguish of losing her best friend, possibly her only real friend on the ground. But now, with her ribs and jaw throbbing, alone in the forest, the tears came. For Wells. For home. For Charlotte, Atom and Finn. For her father. For her mother's betrayal. For herself. Because it was very, very clear to her that she was alone.

A quote from a celebrated Earth writer skittered through her mind. 'Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.' Clarke's parents had raised her to be open, trusting, helpful, and giving. But down here, alone, she had to be smart. Her mother's last words to her on the Ark rang in her ears. "Your instincts will tell you to take care of everybody else first, just like your father, but be careful. I can't lose you too." Abby must have known that beyond the radiation and unknown conditions on the ground, that The 100 were dangerous all by themselves.

Another quote, from a very different Earth writer was more appropriate to her current situation. 'The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.'

Words 3199

-The 100—


	2. Chapter 2

**_Blame it on the Rain_**

**_Summary: After talking to Jaha, Bellamy starts avoiding Clarke in camp and sets on an unforeseen chain of events that force him to rethink what direction he's going in._**

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_**Chapter**__**2**_

The sun had been down for several hours by the time Clarke made her way back to camp. She was still uncertain about where she stood with The 100, but that could be a problem for another day. She was reasonably certain, despite the throbbing of her bruises, that she would not be murdered in her sleep.

Bellamy's defense team hadn't overtly attacked her, just treated her with an alarming indifference. And there was more than one person in camp who wouldn't mind taking her down a peg or two – whether with words or fists, she knew that. Had seen it in their eyes. She hadn't seen it for the very real threat it was in the first few days, but Wells' death and Murphy's hatred focused on her had ripped away her blinders. Since then she'd relied on her position as the camp medic and Bellamy's protection to keep her safe. Clearly she'd just traded one pair of binders for another.

Her time alone in the forest didn't lessen the ache and fear of being alone in such a precarious place, but it had allowed her some emotional distance from the camp, and also proven something else, something potentially more important.

She could survive on her own outside of camp. Not only had she found the stream and seaweed, she'd also found several trees with edible sap and leaves, as well as a berry patch, she had killed a rabbit and found her way back in the dark healthy and whole (if she ignored the fact that her hands were cold to the bone and she couldn't feel her nose). Her Earth skills might be rudimentary, but they might suffice. If it came down to it, she had an option. The option to leave. Strike out on her own.

It wasn't a good option, but just having an option relieved some of the dark pressure she'd felt. She'd been trapped on the Ark, locked up in solitary confinement for 14 months. Coming to Earth should have meant freedom, unparalleled freedom, but the camp, the rules she'd insisted on and her position in the camp had all become walls, pinning her in, trapping her anew. When she'd felt like part of the camp, like they were all working together to build something better than what the Ark had offered, she'd only seen the positive. But now... now she saw the walls not as protection, but as another prison.

Exiting the tree line, Clarke looked up to see Miller waving a torch and shouting from one of the watch stations high above the fence. "She's back," he yelled into the camp.

Clarke ignored him, walking towards the gate even as Drew came up beside her and grabbed her arm. Clarke immediately tried to shake him off, turning to glare at him. "Let me go, Drew, now," she demanded in a cold, angry tone. So much for her newfound sense of peace.

The gate pushed open and Bellamy stormed out, Octavia on his heels, along with Connor and Jones. "Where the hell have you been?" he roared, stopping barely a foot in front of her.

Clarke ignored him, continuing to struggle with Drew. "Get off of me!" she spat, jerking her elbow from Drew's hold, only to find Bellamy's hands clamped on her shoulders.

"Where were you, Clarke?"

"What the hell do you care?" she said coldly, glaring up at him. She'd be damned if she answered to Bellamy Blake. She had obviously been wrong to trust him, to think that they could rely on each other. She might have to deal with him, but she surely didn't answer to him.

"We have rules, Princess, rules you wanted. Do you think they don't apply to you?" he seethed, shaking her.

She jerked back from him, dropping the rabbit she'd been carrying to her feet. Stooping down to collect her prize, likely her only option for a late dinner, Clarke stood up and faced off with Bellamy, her blue eyes blazing with barely banked anger. "And who makes those rules?" She asked caustically, throwing his words back in his face. "You? If you think you can scare me into falling in line, scare me into following rules that make me dependent on you and your band of ruffians, then you don't know anything about me."

"We agreed to the rules, Princess, so don't go accusing me-"

"What happened to your face?" Octavia's voice cut through Bellamy's.

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to get a look at whatever had caught his sister's attention, but Clark stepped back from him again, throwing her face into deep shadow. Losing whatever little patience he had to begin with, he reached out and grabbed her arm with one hand, anchoring her in place while his other hand tilted her chin up towards the light from Miller's torch, revealing the blue and purple bruising on her jaw.

"What the hell is that? Did the Grounders find you? That is exactly why we have rules."

Clarke shook her head at both Blakes, tired of the games and lies. "I was perfectly safe out there," she jerked her head towards the dark forest behind her. "Which is more than I can say for camp." She saw Bellamy blink, his rage fading to a questioning look that was almost vulnerable. But Clarke ignored it and him. She'd fallen for that before. "I'm hungry and tired, so go be a controlling asshole to someone else, 'cause I'm done with this conversation."

Octavia's eyebrows were high in shock or surprise at Clarke's indirect accusation about the camp and her cutting words to Bellamy, but she stepped aside when Clarke swept past her through the fence, Bellamy's grip on her having loosened at the accusatory words and insult.

Bellamy followed a few steps behind, not ready to let her out of his sight again, but still unable to process her words.

Inside the camp, Clarke waved to Monty who ran over, greeting her with a hug. Clarke smiled, then touched her jaw, the smile obviously having hurt her. She handed over her bag to the slight Asian boy, and he headed for the drop ship after she ignored his questioning, concerned look about her bruises and her absence from camp.

Clarke continued towards the bonfire, ignoring the stares of the teens still awake, until she reached the makeshift food prep table they'd assembled. Lying her rabbit down she stroked it's soft fur for a second, a look of regret on her face, then drew a knife out of her belt and, without hesitation, slit it down the middle. The blood poured out, caught in a bucket fashioned from metal from the drop ship.

A frown creased her forehead, uncertainty clear on her face, but before Bellamy could move, Harper, a girl with long hair and a free spirited attitude, stepped forward. "Here, let me show you…"

Harper taught Clarke, who proved to be a fast learner, how to skin the rabbit and then clean it in preparation for cooking it over the fire. "You're a good teacher, thanks," Clarke said gratefully.

Harper flushed but smiled, her gaze shooting to Bellamy who was still standing just a few feet away glowering at their blonde doctor.

Bellamy waited, stewing in his dark thoughts until she'd finished cooking and eating her dinner, the noise level around the fire lower than usual as the teenagers watched the silent fight between their two strong willed leaders. Except for Jasper, none of the others approached Clarke as she ate, and once she finished her meal, Clarke went to the water tent, not bothering to spare a glance at Bellamy when she exited to find him waiting for her.

"We need to talk." He couldn't say he was surprised when she continued to ignore him, walking past him. Tired of her avoidance and needing answers, he grabbed her elbow swinging her around to face him.

Her hands rose up to push him back and her foot would have made painful contact with his instep if he hadn't had guard training and responded instinctively, shifting his foot away from her attack. "Don't touch me!" she growled drawing even more attention from the camp.

"Clarke?" a tremulous voice called out, stopping Bellamy from making a move to get her under control and get her to talk to him. He watched, eyebrows drawn together and a muscle ticking in his jaw, as Clarke hurried towards the little girl who shadowed her around camp. Emily. She had become their youngest when Charlotte had thrown herself off the cliff.

"Hey Em, what are you doing up so late?" Clarke asked in a concerned tone, lifting the flap to her tent and leading the girl inside.

"Bellamy?"

He turned to see Miller standing a few feet away, waiting for orders. "Post a…" he broke off. He wanted to post a guard on her tent. To keep her safe and keep her inside, but there were too many unanswered questions. Bellamy stared at Clarke's tent, hearing her husky lilting voice as she comforted Emily, telling her about her trip to the stream and all the things she'd seen, making it sound like a grand adventure instead of a suicidal trek.

Bellamy stalked towards Miller, standing close to keep their words private. "Who hurt her?"

"I don't know."

The muscle in Bellamy's jaw ticked faster.

"We'll post Jones on her tent tonight. He can be trusted," Miller said quietly aware of the curious eyes on them.

"How do you know?" Bellamy asked, not sure he trusted anyone but himself at the moment.

"He likes Clarke. She helped him out on the Ark or something. He's stopped some of the others – " Miller broke off.

"Stopped some of the others from what?" Bellamy asked with deadly intent.

"From mouthing off to Clarke, dickish stuff. Nothing major," Miller said.

"Fine. Jones can watch her. I'll find out who the fuck-"

"No one will talk to you," Miller interrupted. He respected Bellamy, trusted him, and had a healthy fear of the older boy. "You've been in a rage ever since you discovered she was gone. People know you're pissed. You think anyone is going to admit to being the reason she left?"

Bellamy's eyebrows drew together, his expression faltering. "Do you… you think she left because she was afraid? Because someone hurt her?"

Miller shrugged. "She wanted more seaweed. She asked me to go with her, but I was on duty. Maybe she just decided to go alone."

"You saw her face," Bellamy accused.

Miller didn't respond for a moment, because there was no good response. "That must have happened right before she left or someone would have been talking about it," Miller reasoned. It was obvious someone had hit Clarke. If she'd left camp alone, either she'd been mad, hurt or afraid. None of which would calm Bellamy down. "I'm supposed to be on noc shift tonight. You cover for me, I'll see what I can find out."

Bellamy nodded and Miller handed his gun over and walked away. Before he could get 10 feet, Bellamy's voice called to him. "Miller. Don't come back empty handed."

-The 100—

The next morning Clarke woke to find Emily sitting up, staring at her worriedly. "Your face looks terrible."

Clarke grinned, touching her jaw gingerly. "Thanks."

Emily flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean… you're still pretty." Clarke reached out and squeezed Emily's knee, letting her know she wasn't offended.

"OK, let's get some breakfast then get started with another day in paradise," Clarke said sarcastically.

Stepping outside her tent, she saw Jones waiting for them. "Bellamy wants to see you," he said, sparing a soft smile for Emily. A gentle giant, Clarke thought to herself.

Clarke arched one eyebrow, sardonic amusement lighting up her face for a moment. "Bellamy should learn to live with disappointment."

Moving to the food tent, they collected apples and a handful of nuts for breakfast, Emily sticking close to Clarke's side. After gathering a few supplies, Clarke left Emily with Monty to work on drying some of the seaweed while grinding the rest into a paste, while she went to check on Finn.

"Where'd you go yesterday?" Finn asked, relieved to see her. But his expression clouded when he saw her bruised jaw.

"Out," Clarke replied shortly. "I needed seaweed, I got seaweed."

"What happened to you?" he asked, struggling to sit up. "Tell me and I'll-"

"You'll what? Pull your stitches? Lie back down," she ordered.

Raven entered the tent with apples for her and Finn and whistled, seeing Clarke's face. "Tell me the other guy looks worse."

"Well, he came in injured, so that would hardly be sporting of me, now would it?"

Raven grinned. "You need help handling that, come find me later. Most of these idiots are just begging for a beat down."

"How can you two joke about this? This is serious! Clarke is hurt," Finn said, sitting up and swinging his legs off his cot. Raven tensed. It was never easy seeing the evidence that Finn cared about Clarke.

"She's fine." Raven looked at Clarke, she'd wanted to dislike the other girl, but she couldn't. "You're fine, right?"

"As fine as I'm going to be," Clarke equivocated. "Can you handle checking on his wound?" Clarke asked, not up for going another round with Finn, when she knew she still had to face Bellamy since she could only avoid him for so long.

It was approaching midday when Jones approached Clarke again. "I think you've made your point. Bellamy is waiting. The hunting party needs to go out and they won't until you go talk to him," Jones said, adding a consequence to her delay tactics.

Clarke frowned but followed Jones to the command tent at the center of camp. Bellamy was pacing like a caged animal when she entered, with Miller, Drew and Derek also present. "Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," he said in annoyance.

"What can I say? I'm a busy girl."

"Are you ready to tell me who did that to you?" Bellamy asked, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down his nose at her from a few feet away.

"No," Clarke replied, wandering to the table, seeing all their maps laid out, the one they'd been sent down with, ones they'd found and one that she'd drawn and others had added to. There were pebbles marking off certain areas. "Grounders?"

"Likely game migration paths," he corrected. "I'm not playing with you, Clarke, this is camp business. Who hit you?"

"I don't know."

"He jumped you?" Bellamy exclaimed sharply.

"No, I just don't know his name. He was cussing at me and offensive from the moment he came in for treatment, so I'm just going to assume he's an unpleasant person in general if the helps narrow the search."

"Guy."

"Yes," she smiled insultingly. "My use of the male pronoun indicates that it was a guy."

Bellamy glared at her and stepped closer. "His name is Guy, Princess." Clarke shrugged as if it was of little to no importance to her. "This guy hurts you and you don't care?"

Her gaze went to Drew, who wouldn't meet her gaze. "I care, but I can't change the past. It happened. Knowing his name changes nothing."

"And what if he hurts someone else? Octavia or your little shadow, Emily? One of the other girls in camp?"

Clarke glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, mirroring his stance. "Taking care of myself and the sick and injured people in this camp is about all I can handle right now. If you need someone to play crime and punishment with you, get one of your minions to do it. They're good at following your orders."

He inched closer, towering over her, his expression one of barely restrained emotion. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You're being even more pig-headed than usual." They glared at each other for a long minute. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"I thought you were too busy," she threw at him with an accusing smirk enjoying his flinch as he recalled her last attempt to talk to him.

"I would have made time. You could have told Miller, Jones, anyone."

Her expression grew more brittle. "They take their cues from you, Bellamy. You're too busy for me, they're too busy for me. So don't worry about it. I won't be bothering you with any of my concerns, anymore. If I need something done, I'll get it done myself."

She turned to leave, finding Jones blocking her path with his bulk. Bellamy caught her jacket and tugged her back around to face him. "What does that mean? If you think you're going out of camp alone again, you have another think coming!"

"I'll go wherever I like, whenever I like," she said silkily, her large blue eyes turned up to meet his, both sets of eyes blazing with fury.

"And if you come back to a locked gate?" Miller asked, trying to deflate the argument before it blew up, trying to get Clarke to back down. Bellamy had locked people out before, to enforce the rules.

"Then maybe I don't come back at all," she said, causing Bellamy to stiffen.

He looked down, obviously struggling to reign in his temper, the muscle in his jaw pulsing furiously but his temper was momentarily forgotten as his gaze caught on a patch of discolored skin just above her pants where her shirt had ridden up when she crossed her arms. "What is that?" he asked coldly, his gaze locked on the strip of exposed skin.

Clark tugged her shirt down, her eyes darting to Drew again who looked alarmed. Miller caught the exchange, and shifted his gaze from Clarke to the blonde guard suspiciously.

"Nothing. I have work to do," she declared moving around Jones only to find Bellamy in her path.

"Show me."

"Fuck off."

His mouth tightened and he glanced at Miller. "A little help here?"

Miller stepped forward, slinging the gun he was holding behind his back and taking hold of one of Clarke's arms. Bellamy pushed her back until she was sitting on the table, overpowering her struggles, pushing her legs open so she wouldn't be able to land another kick to his shins, and standing between them.

"Get off of me!" she shouted.

Miller grappled with her arms until Jones stepped up to help circling one of her wrists loosely and holding her arm to the side, not wanting to hurt her by holding too tight.

"Stop it. Don't touch me!" she protested, as Bellamy pushed her shirt up a few inches, then several more, seeing a bruise in a circular outline over her ribs, with darker purple stippling around the center. Bellamy looked stunned, realizing that her injuries were worse than he'd been led to believe.

Raven burst into the tent, a fierce look on her face. "What the hell is happening in here?" She asked even as she visually assessed the situation. Raven pulled her knife, advancing on the boys. "Let her go and I won't gut you like a fish."

Bellamy looked frustrated, waving his hand at Miller and Jones who immediately backed off. Clark tugged her shirt down, but it was too late.

"Is that another… Damn it, Clarke! What happened yesterday?" Raven asked sharply.

"That's what I want to know."

"Oh shut up, Shooter, this is your camp isn't it? Your people? I guess not since they're running around hurting our only doctor," Raven accused. "What are you doing about it?"

"I'm handling it," Bellamy said, his jaw tight with tension. "As soon as she tells me exactly what happened."

"It was me," Drew said quietly, his gaze apologetic and fearful. "I'm sorry, Clarke, I didn't know you were actually hurt."

Bellamy looked from Drew to Clarke in disbelief. "Explain."

Drew looked down. "I knocked into her-"

"He bumped into me. It was an accident," Clarke said, not entirely sure she believed her words, but not angry enough at Drew to want to watch Bellamy beat him up. "If you're going to punish people for shoulder checking me or pushing me you're going to have to train more guards to pick up shifts," Clarke said damningly.

"Everyone out," Bellamy ordered, his hand on Clarke's waist making it clear she was not included in the order. Raven glanced from Clarke to Bellamy and seeing that Clarke wasn't showing any fear, only a simmering anger and resentment, Raven nodded to the younger girl and turned to leave.

Words 3430


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter **__**3**_

Clarke tried to get off the table Bellamy had pushed her up onto, but he tightened his hand at her waist before slowly letting go and stepping back, letting her breath easier once he wasn't in her personal space. He paced away from her then turned back, his dark eyes burning with intensity and some kind of emotion. She just wasn't sure what. His words however were even and measured, not quite calm, but as if he was forcing himself to speak carefully.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"You know why."

He paused in his pacing, his nostrils flaring, and his jaw tightening, but then he resumed his pacing, his gaze moving from her to his feet. "You're right, I've been avoiding you, but not for the reasons you think. I never meant for you to be hurt. You have to know that," Bellamy said his voice pitched low, but the rough timber still rumbled along her nerve endings making them react, goose bumps crawling up her arms.

"What I know is that as soon as we talked to Jaha you suddenly had no interest in involving me in any camp decisions. Or seeing me or talking to me at all," Clarke said firmly, not ready to forgive and forget.

Bellamy looked stunned, but realized from her point of view the timing provided a plausible reason or his sudden change in attitude. "You think that I -"

"You've always been very clear that my value to the camp as a medic was the most important thing, if not the only thing, that I have to offer." Her gaze met his, her look cold, one eyebrow arching in derision. "Though I guess in the end my value to you was more to do with my relationship with the Council."

He drew himself up to his full height, stepping back further which should have made her feel better, triumphant, in control, but just left her feeling cold, as if the distance between them had grown to an insurmountable amount.

"I thought you knew me better than that," he said, knowing that that was the real issue at hand. He'd acted in a way that she couldn't make sense of, she'd been hurt indirectly because of his actions, and now she wasn't sure she could trust him. If she only knew why he'd suddenly, seemingly, had no use for her.

If only she knew. But that was the whole point. Clarke had gotten too close for Bellamy's comfort on the overnight trip to the bunker. He hadn't know what to do with their newfound closeness so he'd pushed her away, thinking that some space and distance from her would allow him to regain his equilibrium and see her just as the too smart, too mouthy, often too confident girl from Phoenix station whose troublesomeness nearly outweighed her usefulness and intelligence. "I thought we knew each other better than that," he said quietly, his gaze watchful.

Clarke felt the uncomfortable niggling of guilt, but shook it off. If she had doubts about his intentions then he was responsible for it. He saw the doubt flicker in her eyes, then her lips firmed, her jaw lifting stubbornly. She wasn't going to let a few pat words wipe away her misgivings.

Bellamy was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his actions, avoiding Clarke, had resulted in her being hurt. He hadn't looked past his own need for space to how the camp might react.

"It's my fault you were hurt," he said gravely. "I can't change that, but I will make sure it never happens again."

She shook her head, sliding off the table and walking towards the exit. The earnestness of his words, and obvious guilt and remorse soothed her hurt some, but she wasn't going to forgive and forget. She wasn't great at either, but she did believe in second chances. "You're important in this camp, Bellamy, and you certainly exert a fair amount of control, but you can't control everything or everyone."

"Clarke," he called to her before she could leave. "I will fix this."

She turned; looking over her shoulder then flinched as the move pulled the sore muscles in her stomach. Banding one arm around her middle section she turned fully and slowly to face him. "Tell me why you were avoiding me. That's what I want. I don't need you to protect me. I just want to know-"

"Yes, you do. Need me to protect you," he said when he saw her questioning look, a look that changed to stubborn disagreement as he clarified his initial statement. "This is a camp full of criminals, Clarke. Most of whom have grudges, real or imagined, against the Ark's council, and by extension, you." His eyes bored into hers. "You're under my protection, and I'll make sure everyone is well aware of that fact."

"I don't-"

"It's not open to negotiation, Princess, so get over it. You said you need me, well, FYI, Clarke, we all need you." She didn't respond, but she didn't leave either and Bellamy approached her slowly. "You want answers, and I'll give them to you, but I need a few days Clarke, can you give me that?"

She hesitated and even though she'd promised herself that she wouldn't get pulled in by his soulful eyes anymore she felt herself wavering. Yanking her gaze away from the powerful pull of his, she looked down at her feet.

"Please," he said simply, shocking her.

Her eyes shot up, meeting his as her mind tried to assemble the various pieces to the puzzle that was Bellamy Blake. Knowing that she would have no luck there, she focused on the situation on who she knew him to be, trying to make it make sense.

The cocksure rebel inciting chaos. The boy who protected his sister and cared for Charlotte. The leader stepping forward to organize 100 delinquent teenagers and keep them all safe. The determination to be strong even as each blow he rained down on the Grounder wounded his own soul. The lost look in his eyes as he'd faced his sister's cold anger, and then faced his own demons and the attack by Dax. His disappointment in himself as he sat bloody and bewildered after killing Dax, saving both their lives. The long hike back to camp, Bellamy giving her his jacket as they waited out a particularly heavy downpour in a shallow cave. His dark eyes on her, but when she'd asked, he'd denied having anything to say. Returning to camp, they'd delivered the guns with a united front. Then the talk with Jaha. Afterwards they'd exited the communications tent and stood silently side by side as they looked over the camp.

Raindrops had just begun to fall again as she'd turned to him, cautious happiness in her gaze. "You should be safe now, but we'll still have to be ready when they come down."

His eyes met hers, so dark but alive with emotion. "Clarke..."

"Yeah?"

He shook his head and looked away from her. "Nothing. Get some rest. We have a lot of work to do if we're going to be ready for winter by the first snowfall."

Since then, Bellamy had been avoiding her. It had only taken days for the camp to sense the rift and react, only to bear witness to Bellamy's rage and remorse at her leaving camp and being hurt, and now he was asking her for time to explain.

"I thought we were working on trusting each other. I know I trust you. Can you trust me?" he asked.

"I did," she said quickly without thinking.

"Did?"

"I..." she didn't know what to say. She had told Finn she trusted Bellamy, and she had meant it then. She considered everything she knew to be true about Bellamy, all he had done, good and bad. She frowned, but nodded. She didn't want to be susceptible to him, but he was making her remember why she'd been so certain she could trust him. Bellamy had his faults, but at his core, he cared about people, and Clarke knew he cared about her too. "I do..."

He smiled, looking down, breaking the long searching look. He reached out a hand towards her shoulder, but dropped it awkwardly, stepping back. "You trusted me enough to come to me yesterday. And I shut you down. That was my mistake. It's my problem and had nothing to do with you. Don't let a moment of bad judgment on my part unravel what we've been working towards."

She frowned, her nose crinkling as he again asked her to trust him but gave her no information, no explanation. "Tell me why-"

"I will, but not yet."

"You need a few days."

"Yeah."

She nodded slowly, still confused, but no longer angry. "I could help you, with whatever it is."

"Brave, nosy Princess," he teased with a smile and Clarke had a sudden desire to draw him, smiling, the boyish look on his face supplanting his usual dark intensity. "I hope you will, but not yet. For right now let's focus on the immediate problem." He placed a large warm hand in the middle of her back urging her to walk with him, exiting the tent.

"And what's that?" she said, letting him guide her forward into the weak warmth of the late autumn sun.

"Making sure the camp knows that the last few days were an aberration, that you and I are a team. So smile, Princess, show everyone that we've made up."

"You think it will be so easy?"

"Neither of us is particularly known for being even tempered. They'll assume it was a fight and go back to the status quo. Long term... Well, I have a plan for that too."

She found herself smiling, eyes rolling, willing to go along with him, despite the fact that she knew little more than she had before the confrontation turned reconciliation. "Something tells me I'm not going to like this plan."

-The 100-

"Do you think this is a punishment for me or for you?" Clarke asked as she lay on the ground where Miller had put her, ignoring the hand he held out to her to help her up. Miller snorted, reaching his hand closer to her but she refused to take it. "No, seriously. Which one of us pissed off King Bellamy?"

"Get up or he'll see you down there and think I really hurt you, and then I'll be the one receiving a real punishment," Miller said, looking down at her. She sighed mournfully but took his hand, letting him pull her back to her feet. She rubbed her ribs, feeling the ache, but was momentarily distracted when she noticed that Miller also had a pair or large soulful dark eyes, but his didn't twist up her insides like Bellamy's did. "I think he wanted you to learn to defend yourself."

"And I know there is more to it," Clarke answered back smartly, her dry, stubborn look demanding an answer.

"And... I think Bellamy wanted us to get to know each other," he finally said. Clarke arched one eyebrow in surprised question. "Not like that..." Miller blustered, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, his hair hidden under his black beanie like always. "Just..."

"Friends?" she speculated, letting him off the hook.

"Yeah. Maybe. Now let's try that again, but this time bend and slip under my arm..."

Clarke couldn't complain. Getting to know Miller had been unexpected. His quietness had concealed a thoughtful personality, but once he relaxed she had gotten to see his dry sense of humor. And she now understood why Bellamy relied on him. Miller had a strong sense of honor, and while he might not always make the choice Clarke would like, he wasn't some violent thug like Murphy.

Miller knew exactly why Bellamy had assigned him to teach Clark self defense. He wanted Miller to see what Bellamy saw in Clarke- a strong leader with a good heart. Bellamy's position and strength in camp protected Clarke, but his attention to her was just one more thing that separated her from the camp. Miller was one of the 100, one of the delinquents, and if he accepted Clarke, liked her, then others would follow his lead.

He felt bad for what had happened to Clarke, he would have gone with her to get seaweed or assigned someone else to do it, but it was an unspoken rule among the defense team: Clarke didn't leave camp without Bellamy's OK.

-The 100-

The few hours each day learning self-defense from Miller were something of a reprieve for Clarke over the following few days. They practiced in the back of camp, beyond all the tents and beginnings of actual buildings, made from rocks, logs, mud and whatever other building materials they could find that might survive the coming wet and cold weather, which meant that they didn't have many interruptions from curious teens asking probing questions, longing for new gossip.

But there were still interruptions. Like Emily making sure Clark had eaten and that her ribs were wrapped tightly. Or Finn checking in to make sure Miller wasn't being too rough with her. Or Raven coming by to make sure Clarke knew a few dirty moves to throw into any fight that wasn't going her way (which Miller quickly came to regret when Raven failed to pull her punches and dropped him to the ground with a hit between his legs). Or Jasper and Monty coming by to alternately offer her encouragement and heckle her. Or Octavia who just watched silently, an oddly quiet, contemplative look on her face.

Or Bellamy who checked in on their progress seemingly on the hour, every hour.

All of which were both annoying and comforting, but altogether less daunting than being in the middle of camp either helping with food preservation or working in her med bay, while everyone else watched Bellamy watching her.

And that was what was really bothering Clarke. The feeling of being constantly under observation and not knowing why.

Everywhere Clarke turned, Bellamy was there. He popped by to check on her training sessions with Miller. He accompanied her on any treks outside the camp. He checked in with her when she was running her morning clinic hours for minor or healing injuries. She felt his eyes on her when she was at the nightly campfire. He personally brought her supplies that they'd found in their scouting expeditions outside of camp. He requested her presence and opinions at least twice a day on decisions about food, building, scavenging routes, and how to assign people to camp tasks.

She would be happy that they were working so well together, the whole camp seemingly pulling together to get prepared for their first winter on the ground. She would have, if not for the feeling that she couldn't shake that something was going on that she had no clue about.

-The 100-

Clarke stormed into Bellamy's tent, her arms full of an animal hide blanket. "What is this about?" she demanded without preamble.

"That's a blanket," he said dryly, looking up from the map he'd been studying when she entered. "I don't think it's about anything except for keeping people warm."

"Why did you give it to me?"

"Who said I did?"

She frowned, momentarily thrown off. "Didn't you? Who else would...?" She paused, mashing her lips together. "I know it was you."

"You make it sound like an accusation. To my mind, a blanket is a nice gesture, not something to be upset about."

She growled, tossing the soft skin down on the table that took up a fair amount of space in his tent with a sense of regret. It was soft and would keep her warmer than the orange blankets they'd found in the FEMA bunker, but it felt like it came with a million hidden strings and Clarke was tired of being in the dark. "You said you needed a few days. It's been a more than a few days."

His eyebrows shot up at the sudden topic change. "So I did, but I'm not sure now is the-"

"You asked me to trust you and I did. You asked me for time and I gave it to you. Time's up, start talking!" she demanded.

Bellamy stared at her, not willing to do as she commanded. "Take the blanket, Clarke," he said instead.

"No, give it to somebody else, somebody who needs it."

"I did, I gave it to you, and you need it. It's getting colder, and we need you healthy-"

"Because I'm our only medic?" she questioned sharply.

"Yes, and because I don't want you to get sick."

She blinked up at him, the unbalanced feeling she'd had since they talked things out six days earlier intensifying. "I don't understand."

"It's cold, getting colder. You need a blanket to keep warm, unless you're going to share your bunk and blankets with someone else... are you?"

"No, I'm..." she shook her head.

"So we agree you need a blanket and now I've given you one. You didn't seem to have this big an issue with me giving you a blanket before," he reminded her.

Her eyes clouded. He'd given her a blanket made from the stitched together hides of three deer not long after Atom had died. She'd thought it was his way of saying thanks, without having to actually say anything. "No, I meant that I don't understand you," she said looking up at him searchingly.

Octavia pushed her head into Bellamy's tent, obviously having been listening outside. "They say the first step is to admit you have a problem," she said sharply shooting her brother a knowing look. "Ignore him, Clarke."

"What?"

"You want him to talk to you? Ignore him. He can't stand it," Octavia said, coming into the tent to stand between them. "He likes to be the mysterious one, making people come to him. Ignore him and he'll come to you. He won't be able to help himself."

Bellamy shot his sister a dark look that promised retribution, but Octavia appeared unconcerned. Clarke looked from one Blake to the other and thought it must be a sibling thing.

"Now come on, Clarke, you promised to hang out tonight, and Harper has a new game she wants us all to play, something lame about spinning a bottle." Octavia clamped a hand down on Clarke's arm and drug her out of Bellamy's tent, snagging Clarke's new blanket and thrusting it into her arms as she did so. "You'll need it, and you can share with me. We can pretend to be cuddling under it and drive the boys crazy," she said brightly, throwing a taunting look over her shoulder at her brother as she exited the tent with Clarke in tow.

"I'm so confused," Clarke said, feeling like she was standing in the middle of a Blake hurricane, with no idea how to escape.

"I know," Octavia said patronizingly, patting her shoulder. "That's what the moonshine is for."

"Moonshine," Clarke said flatly. "To ease my confusion?"

"Nah, it just makes you not care about anything."

Clarke shook her head, but followed along after Octavia. "Do you know-"

"Yep.

"But you won't tell me."

"Nope, this is way too much fun."

"Fun for who?" Clarke questioned, feeling the heaviness of Bellamy's gaze on her without having to turn to see that he had, in fact, followed them out of his tent, she just knew it.

"For me, of course," Octavia said with a bright smile.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter**__**4**_

Octavia had been right about one thing, the moonshine did make it easier to put aside her confusion over whatever was happening. It also made it absolutely hysterical when Myles had spun the bottle and it had landed on Clarke.

Clarke, who had been unaware up to that point that 16 year old Myles had a crush on her (made clear to all by his red cheeks and stammering), had gamely puckered up her lips and kissed him on the mouth, drawing cat calls and laughter from the other teens in the circle. Clarke grinned and looked up through her lashes as Myles as he stumbled away, an awed look on his face.

"Has our princess found her pauper?" Bellamy asked. Clarke turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, still smiling.

"What's that?" Octavia asked.

"An old children's tale," Clarke said.

"Well then I wouldn't know it, Bellamy insisted on reading me historical stories about war and conquerors and the rise and fall of kingdoms, not a single princess to be found."

"You didn't miss much," Clarke said easily. "Most of the traditional fairy tales involved princesses getting in trouble, not doing much, then getting saved by prince charming."

Octavia scoffed. "I don't mind a cute boy rescuing me now and then, but come on."

Bellamy's expression darkened and Octavia nudged Clarke's side, smirking at her brother. Clearly needling each other was a sibling thing too.

"It's your turn Clarke," Harper called out softly, wary eyes on Bellamy.

"Oh, right." She spun the bottle, biting her lip as it turned round and round, finally coming to rest on Del, a cute guy with dark hair and a surly attitude. Clarke forced a smile and stood to walk over to him, but the bottle wobbled on the uneven ground and tilted towards Monty. Clarke's smile grew more genuine and the group, including Del, seemed to relax suddenly. Clarke gave her friend a sweet chaste kiss on the lips, smacking her lips and winking as she pulled away, laughing at the deer in the headlights look on Monty's face.

"And I think that's it for me tonight, guys," Clarke said, stepping past Monty to exit the circle they had formed, good-natured called of 'party pooper' following her.

Bellamy fell in step with her. "You turning in, Princess?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Another busy day tomorrow." He didn't reply but walked with her back to her tent.

She stopped outside the flap, looking up at him. "Well. Good night."

He nodded and watched her duck inside before walking back towards the campfire, wanting to check in on the guards one more time before retiring to his tent for the night.

"You're on the verge of being pathetic, you know," Octavia's said quietly, popping up at his side and linking her arm with his how she used to do when they'd walk around their tiny quarters on the Ark while pretending to be in the main community rooms on the Ark, Bellamy pointing out things she would never see.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," she laughed. "Just like I don't know that you're crushing on Clarke."

"Leave it alone, Octavia."

"Like you leave me alone? Oh no, big brother, I'm going to enjoy being up in your business," she smiled up at him happily, and he almost couldn't begrudge her attitude.

"It's nothing."

"Uh-huh."

-The 100-

The next morning Bellamy went to check in on Clarke in the drop ship, finding her, Raven and Monty in deep discussion on how much to tell the Ark about their circumstances on the ground.

"You don't trust them," Raven said, sounding both contemplative and accusing.

"Would you? They sent us down here without anything that might help us survive, they can say they're happy about our survival all they want, but we were little more than lab rats to them."

"Not to your mom," Raven objected.

"And the Chancellor, he sent his son..." Monty objected.

"Yeah, 'cause Wells forced his hand, but even then they didn't send water or even a med kit," Clarke said darkly, looking over at Bellamy. "We were sent solely as a human experiment on radiation exposure. My mom... she might have had some reason to believe we could survive, but she also knew that there was no way they were letting me or any of the rest of us, except Wells out, retrials or not. The Ark is dying. We were expendable. This was a hail mary, nothing more."

"That's why Clarke is always asking them for data and insisting on getting them to give us info on shelters and radiation levels rather than answering their questions," Bellamy interrupted. "If they come-"

"When they come," Clarke interrupted.

"We'll have some hard choices to make," Bellamy finished, and Clarke nodded, reaffirming his statement.

"Choices..." Monty asked.

"Choices like whether to rejoin the Ark," Clarke said simply. "Choices like do we trust them not to kill us or lock us up again if we don't play by their rules."

Monty looked concerned, knowing that the freedom in the camp would not be given up easily. He certainly wasn't looking forward to living under totalitarian rule again.

"But we need them," Raven said softly, recalling the thousand instances she'd longed for the tools and technology the Ark had during her short time on the ground.

"And they need us," Bellamy said insistently, in his 'I'm the leader, don't question me' tone.

Raven and Monty found something they needed to do quickly after that, a common occurrence these days whenever Bellamy approached Clarke.

"You sleep well?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Clarke responded her nose wrinkling with confusion.

"Warm?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Yes. Very warm. Octavia brought your blanket back, and slept over, so I was very warm. Thanks. And I guess I'll see you tonight."

Bellamy looked perplexed for a second but his expression cleared quickly. "Yeah. Tonight."

He stormed out of the drop ship, his eyes searching the camp for his sister. Seeing her by the food drying tables, he stormed towards her scattering teens from the area. "What did you do?"

"Oh, hey Bell."

"What did you do?"

Octavia's eyes gleamed with laughter, but she feigned ignorance. "You're going to have to be more specific, so much of what I do seems to annoy you."

"I have plans, with Clarke, tonight?"

"Oh, yeah!" she laughed. "Well, not with Clark per say, but I did get you invited into her tent, which is more than you've managed..."

"What did you do?"

"I was telling bedtime stories to the girls Clarke shares with, they wanted more, so I said you'd deliver some. Tonight." Bellamy glared at her, but it had no effect on her amusement. "You want her to see you in a different way. Giving her stuff is not going to do it, Bell. Clarke might have been raised on Phoenix, but she's not into material stuff or status at all. You're going to have to show here who you really are. Soft side and all," Octavia said seriously. "Not that you know what I'm talking about."

-The 100—

That night Bellamy came into Clarke's tent, pausing at the entrance, seeing that it was crowded with all the younger children in camp. Sometimes Bellamy forgot that the eight of them were actually children, not almost adults like Clarke, Miller or Jones. These ones, five girls and three boys were 15 at their oldest. Still kids, and apparently still eager for bedtime stories. Clarke smiled at Bellamy's uncharacteristic uncertainty, but he overcame it quickly, coming inside and sitting at the end of Clarke's pallet, the children shifting position to gather around him.

"Have you guys ever heard of Julius Cesar?"

Clarke sat a little outside the circle, her arms wrapped around her knees as she listened to Bellamy weave a tale of triumph, greed, and ultimate death. Her face was soft with amused pride as the children hung on his every word and he played on their ignorance, building suspense.

Once the children were asleep, Bellamy turned his head to look at Clarke who looked peaceful and relaxed for once. Standing up he held his hand out for her and she took it without hesitation, letting him lead her outside.

"I should have known."

"What?"

"That you would be a good story teller, you're good at speeches, so…"

"Not exactly the same thing," he said with a pleased smile.

"No, but the skill set is similar. And…" She trailed off her large, blue eyes shining up at him in the moon light.

"And?"

"And you're good with kids. Which I did know, but still."

"They're frightened of me," he said bleakly, recalling how they'd sat close together and as far away from him as possible while remaining in the tent. It had been obvious that it was only Clarke's presence that made them brave enough to show up to listen to him tell stories.

"They're frightened in general, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Earth is dangerous, they need to be cautious until we're better adapted for life here. Maybe they are a little afraid of you, Bellamy, maybe they need you to be scary in their minds in order to believe that you can protect us."

"Do you believe that I can protect us?" he asked his eyes focusing on her expression.

She frowned, considering it. "Yeah." She stopped along the fence, beyond the hearing of the teens who surrounded the camp fire, talking or just standing shoulder to shoulder silently. "I think you're our best chance at survival." She said, her expression serious, but he could see she had more to say. "We will lose more people, Bellamy. And that won't be your fault. It's inevitable. Grounders, radiation, the animals and terrain here. Winter, flu-"

"OK, I get it."

"I do trust you. You're smart and you're a good leader and you care. We couldn't ask for anything more."

Bellamy nodded and looked down, her words easing some of the tension that had been with him ever since he'd realized that Earth wasn't going to kill them immediately, but would likely take many of their lives, in the end.

-The 100—

The next few days brought no more illumination to whatever was going on with Bellamy.

"Bellamy," she said stridently, storming into the command center tent, her face a mask of annoyance. "I don't have time for this!"

Bellamy nodded towards the door and the rest of the people in the tent disappeared. Clarke barely even noticed, it was such a common occurrence now. Anywhere she and Bellamy were together was suddenly a ghost town.

He turned towards her, watching as she stopped a mere foot from him. "Time for what, Princess?"

"You know what I mean," she questioned, her irritation at being watched closely by most of the camp having climbed to unbearable proportions.

"Do you have time for me?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Of course," she replied quickly, without having to think about it.

"That's great, Princess, then I'll see you tonight and hopefully if things go well, shed some light on the topic."

He saw her lower lip jut out, her chin rising another inch. In her mind, it was just another delay. Nailing down Bellamy on anything he didn't want to talk about was more difficult than getting the Council to tell the truth. "Why can't you-"

"I'm heading out on a hunting trip now, we'll talk tonight."

Clarke blew out an annoyed breath as Bellamy walked past her and out of the tent. Without a plan for how to turn the situation in her favor she hurried after him. "Bellamy," she called out, stopping him before he exited the camp with a small group.

"Look, Clarke," he said with a hint of weariness in his voice. "I told you-"

"I know, tonight. Fine. Just… be careful out there," she said, abandoning her plan to basically harass him into telling her what she wanted to know.

A faint smiled turned up the corners of his mouth, and he looked down before meeting her eyes. Reaching out a hand, he hesitated, then touched her jaw, just for a moment before his hand landed on her shoulder. "Careful Princess, I might start to think you actually care about me."

Her expression bordered on exasperation, but her eyes were pools of clear blue certainty. "You're an idiot. And you know I care about you, at least enough to not want you dead."

"That's a start," he said, squeezing her shoulder and then walking away, the gate closing behind him.

"A start to what?" she wondered out loud.

-The 100—

Bellamy knew the exact moment he realized he was in trouble. It had started raining lightly as he sat against the tree with Clarke at his side, Dax's dead just feet away.

The rain had darkened her hair, wetting her clothing and she was beginning to shiver. He barely felt the cold, so numb from the inside out from the events of the night. He'd looked at her, neither of them willing to get up and move yet, despite the dampness, their bodies and souls tired in a way they had never experienced on the Ark, no matter how difficult their circumstances had been there.

She was trembling, her cheeks pale, making the pink of her lips and the blue of her eyes even more marked. And despite everything, the fact that he'd just almost died, that she'd just almost died trying to save him, that he'd just taken a life, his first, because he was certain that it would not be his last, not here, not on Earth, not if he wanted to survive, despite everything the only thought in his head was that she was beautiful. Maybe if she'd looked like a drowned rat in the rain, his thought process would have stopped there. But she didn't. She looked wet, cold, tired, hurt, and beautiful, as if she were lit with an inner light.

It wasn't like he'd never thought it before. Clarke was undeniably attractive, he'd noted and discarded the thought before the drop ship door even opened.

It was different now. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, it was he saw her beauty as more than skin deep. More than the golden halo of wavy hair, or the wide eyes that alternately begged and demanded that he be better, it was her strength, her kindness, her intelligence and her determination to keep them all together and alive that made her beautiful. She was willing to stand up and make the hard choices, and that meant he didn't have to do it all alone.

And he needed her. Not her porcelain skin, or curvy body, but her. He needed _her_ to balance him. He needed her to let him know when he had it right and when he got it wrong. He was more than willing to take the reins, make the decisions, set the plans into action, and accept the consequences, but he'd found himself looking to her for her opinion, for her guidance, for her approval. He'd begun to rely on it.

And that was dangerous. It was her words that rang in his head, "I forgive you" instead of the nightmare of his hallucinations. It was her face that filled his mind, not Dax's as the life faded from his eyes. Her earnest expression as she'd told him she needed him.

He'd let himself believe that it would be OK, that needing her was OK, that wanting her was a natural biological response and one he could control. They could be leaders together, even friends, and he could control it.

Then she'd spoken to Chancellor Jaha on his behalf. Stuck up for him. Made the case for why he deserved mercy. That he had earned his freedom. That his life had value. That he had saved lives, and that in the end he was worthy of a second chance, his good outweighing his bad.

It was then that he knew he had to distance himself from her. He would be weaker for needing her. She was a distraction he couldn't afford.

And, he thought to himself, she would be better off without him. He would only taint her, dim her light.

He'd pushed her away to save her from himself, and found that while Earth was a wide open space, he was possibly more trapped here than he'd ever been on the Ark. Here he had responsibilities. People relied on him for their basic survival. Here there were eighty odd Octavias, all needing him to be smart and make the right decisions.

He was in charge, so when Clarke was hurt because he couldn't handle how he felt about her, because he wasn't willing to wait and watch as he drained the goodness from her, wait and dread the day that she finally saw him for who he really was and changed her mind about his worth before walking away and taking her light with her, it was all on him. He'd wanted power, the ability to shape his own life and the world around him, and he had it. But now the consequences of his actions all came back to him.

He hadn't wanted to taint her, hadn't wanted to weaken his position by showing that he'd fallen for her. But without him, she wasn't safe in the camp or outside of it.

So he'd changed course. If she wasn't safe without him, then he would have to keep her with him. And he couldn't keep her with him without at least asking her to be his. And if she said yes, if she accepted him, then to keep her with him and not sully her with his darkness, he needed to be better. He needed to feel like he deserved her. He needed to be the person she said he could be.

Bellamy knew she was attracted to him on a basic level. Knew she liked him to a certain extent. But he had no idea how she would respond when he finally laid his cards on the table.

-The 100—

Reentering camp after the hunting trip, Bellamy found Clarke waiting along with several of the others. Her eyes searched him for any injuries, but found him safe and whole. "How'd it go?"

"Not great, but every bit counts now," he said as he turned his head from her to watch the two deer, both small, be carried into camp. "I think we might have a better chance of catching boars with a smaller group, our best trackers only."

"We should send out gathering crews too, get as much of the edible tree bark and sap as we can. They won't go bad, and we'll need the calories," she added, falling in step with him as he headed for the campfire, needing to get warm again. "It's getting colder each night, it seems like," she offered quietly.

He frowned at her. "You OK? Warm enough in your tent?"

She smiled up at him softly. "Yeah. The buildings will help, we'll need them before long, but I'm OK."

He turned his frown on one of the four almost complete buildings. They'd tried to build their first roof the day before and suffered a spectacular failure and lost two of their best builders to falling injuries.

"Hey," she called his attention back to her. "You did good today. Two deer. We'll get the roofing figured out."

And that was why he needed her. She believed in him, in them as a group. She made him believe that they could survive. All the others may have believed in him, but he believed in her.

Words 3310


	5. Chapter 5

**_Blame it on the Rain_**

**_Summary: After talking to Jaha, Bellamy starts avoiding Clarke in camp and sets on an unforeseen chain of events that force him to rethink what direction he's going in._**

_Set post S01E8, cannon until then, whatever the hell I want after that point._

**Chapter 5**

"Leave me alone, Bellamy."

She didn't even turn around to see who it was that had come into the drop ship. She didn't have to. No one else would try to approach her right now.

He didn't say anything but his footsteps came closer.

"I'm not in the mood," she said, her shoulders tensing further at his approach.

"In the mood for what?" he asked softly, his normally loud and rough voice unusually gentle.

She turned to face him, her expression one of absolute weariness. "For talking about whatever new problem there is. For talking about how to prevent more deaths in Grounder traps. For talking about how we help them move on after another senseless death. For talking at all."

His dark eyes searched her face, wondering how she did it, how she handled providing medical care for The 100, day in and day out, as their population slowly decreased and Clarke and Bellamy inevitably failed to keep them all alive.

They'd lost another one that day. A girl that Clarke had barely known. She'd taken a wooden spike to the stomach and by the time they got her back to camp and to Clarke, she was already in bad shape. Bellamy could see that with his limited first aide training that he'd received as a guard.

But Clarke had tired anyway, performing surgery with her few tools, nearly no medication, and no assistance from her mother. She'd worked valiantly for almost a hour before she realized that this was a battle she wasn't going to win. The spear had perforated the girl's stomach and intestines. She was going into septic shock and the best Clarke could hope for was to extend her life a day, at most, as she slowly died a painful death. With medical supplies, Clarke could have saved her life. A simple dose of antibiotics and IV fluids and she would have healed in a week, been back on her feet in two, and back to work in three. Instead Jones was digging another grave.

Bellamy hadn't been inside at the end, but Octavia had told him in hushed tones how Clarke had let the girl say her goodbyes then ended her life as humanely as possible. Bellamy had no trouble imagining it. He'd seen Clarke's face as she realized that there was nothing she could do for Atom, and quickly transition to what was best for her patient: a quick, nearly painless death.

"Then we won't talk," Bellamy said as he tugged her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She was still in his hold at first. Distant. It was her way of dealing. But he wasn't going to let her handle the guilt and grief alone.

He hugged her tighter, feeling the softness of her body conform to his, and finally she relaxed against him, her muscles going fluid as her hands slipped around his waist and clung to him.

She didn't cry, but she did let him shoulder some of the burden. Earth was beautiful and terrifying. It was the only reason they were alive, and it was killing them slowly. But at least she didn't have to face it alone.

-The 100-

The next day, Clarke entered the drop ship to find it clean and ready for its next patient, despite the fact that she had left it a mess the night before, unable to let the routine tasks soothe her. There was no sign of the blood and despair of the day before, instead there was a glass bottle with small white flowers sitting on the counter where she recorded information on medicinal plants, injuries and treatments. Emily, Octavia, Monty and a few others referred to it as her desk, as if she was a real doctor working in a real clinicians' space.

A soft smile curved her lips upwards. The flowers were from Bellamy, of course. Monty was sweet enough to give her flowers, but it was unlikely he would never think of it. He saw plants as tools, not as objects of beauty. Finn might have given her flowers once upon a time, but not anymore. Their friendship had been strained first by his lie and wavering between her and Raven and then by her increasing alignment with Bellamy about camp decisions, and if she was honest, her choice of friends. Emily liked flowers and would pick them whenever she could while outside the fence with Clarke, but she only ever went outside the fence with Clarke. Instead of growing more comfortable with the 100 and Earth, Emily had carved out her little area where she felt safe, and she kept herself to that little area.

The flowers were from Bellamy. Just like the blanket, a partially empty notebook he'd found along with a few lead pencils, a book on art and another on survival medicine, and a new pair of thick socks. Clarke wasn't blind and she wasn't stupid, but it hadn't been until he'd handed her the large format art book with its slightly damaged edges and still bright prints that she'd realized what all the attention- from him and the camp- was about.

It still sounded ridiculous, even in the confines of her own mind. Bellamy liked her. Liked her, liked her. It was silly, that something so small made her smile in wonder, even now, after three days of getting used to the idea. He liked her. That was his big secret.

She nearly laughed. Here they were struggling to survive, struggling each day to feed and clothe and protect the remaining 100, and the one thing that stayed constantly on her mind was that Bellamy Blake, rebel leader, criminal and all around badass, liked her.

She'd even caught her mind wandering, wondering what would have happened if the Ark had not been failing, if they had met there; he as a guard, she as a medical apprentice. Would they have liked each other or thrown off sparks? Would those sparks have turned from antagonism to attraction or would they have stayed in their own lives, forgetting about the boy or girl who had riled them up that one time.

But the Ark had failed, and they were on Earth, and it was here and now that she had to make a decision. That was if Bellamy ever actually came out and said anything to her directly. Or if she grew impatient enough with his soft, slow approach and forced the topic.

Most of the people in camp might see Bellamy Blake as being as hard as stone, but Clarke knew better. He was vulnerable with the people he cared about, and now that she knew she was one of those people, possibly only one of two, she felt a responsibility to be certain and be careful with his heart.

Her tender smile grew to a rueful grin, the movement of muscles in her face almost unfamiliar, but pleasant. Bellamy Blake liked her and had given her flowers, and that was reason enough to smile. She lifted a sprig of the small white blossoms and sniffed, immediately sneezing.

She laughed and cocked her head to one side, putting the flowers back and deciding that it would be better to admire them from afar. Clarke wondered what there was that she could get him, a small gift of some sort. He liked guns. Things that blew up. Weapons in general. She actually had no idea what hobbies he'd had on the Ark, besides reading and taking care of Octavia. Suddenly her face lit up. There was something she could give him, something that didn't require leaving camp, which was helpful since he was less than accommodating when it came to her requests for a guard to take her out to find medicinal or edible plans.

It should bother her, but it didn't. Not as much as it had before, anyway. Not once she realized that he was just being an overprotective ass. Because he liked her. And because he usually only authorized her trips when he could accompany her himself. Because he liked her.

Maybe their basic survival needs would always trump (and should always trump) something as ultimately meaningless as a boy liking a girl, but they had to have something to live for, something to hold onto. The question was, did Clarke want to hold tighter to Bellamy or let him down gently?

-The 100-

The next day, Clarke took advantage of a day with few injuries to get outside and enjoy an increasingly rare sunny day. Sitting against the fence some distance away from the others, she had her pencils and several pieces of scrap paper in her lap. Immersed with her drawing she was drawn back to reality only by the sound of Bellamy's voice.

She watched as he gave orders to his troops and listened to Miller and Jones as they reported in on progress and things left to accomplish in the days they had left before the first snow when temperatures would become dangerously cold overnight.

She studied his face as the sun glinted over his cheekbones, illuminating each of his freckles, and was struck by the urge to draw him instead of focusing on the elements of her gift for him.

"So you wanted to talk to me about that thing?" Raven asked standing over Clarke.

"What? No. What?" Clarke looked confused, blinking up at Raven in the bright light.

"The medieval catapult. Or maybe you think I meant whatever thing Bellamy Blake has for you. Or the thing you have for him."

"There is no thing."

"Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself."

"Raven..."

Raven smiled and sat down beside Clarke, leaning back against the rough wood logs that made up their best defense. "Hey no judgment. Good girl has a thing for the bad boy, that's a tale that goes way back," Raven teased.

"It's not like that," Clarke protested earnestly.

Raven grinned. "OK, so poor boy, rich girl, equally old-"

"No," Clarke laughed.

"You know once we figure out the catapult, I was thinking that we might be able to design and make some cross bows."

"Cross bows?" Clarke said with a blank face, having a hard time following Raven's rapid topic change.

"Yeah, 'cause we're going to run out of bullets, and making gun powder is dependent on us having the right supplies."

"You know for once, I'd just like there to be one day of only good news. Is that too much to ask?" Clarke said wirily.

"Here?" Raven scoffed. "Yeah, probably. Unless you hole up with your non-boyfriend boyfriend and hide away from the rest of us. Which you should totally do," Raven laughed.

Clarke laughed along with Ravens contagious laughter, feeling Bellamy's gaze find her, probably drawn by the rare sound of laughter. Clarke met his gaze and smiled, losing herself for a moment until Raven cleared her throat nosily.

"Yeah, he's totally _not_ your boyfriend," Raven scoffed.

"I told you, it's not like that."

"Well it should be, and don't think I didn't hear the 'yet' on the end of that sentence."

-The 100-

That night Clarke got tired of pretending not to notice Bellamy watching her from across the campfire as their dinner cooked over the open flames. She made her excuses to the group she was sitting with, a combination of the defense team and her medical team- which had gotten to know each other better as they realized their interdependence on each other. The defense team (who also doubled heavily with the hunters) were hurt more often than the rest of the 100, and it was the defense team that was ultimately responsible for keeping the 100 from harm.

Clarke walked up to Bellamy, his dark eyes tracking her progress, noting that she stopped to say hi to several of the teens, and was stopped several times by others. Clarke had become part of the camp. Finally. She was still separate, so was he, but she was no longer a princess in a proverbial tower.

When she arrived at his side he offered her a drink of the tea he held in his hand in a hammered metal cup.

"Thanks," she said, accepting it and tasting the refreshing minty taste. She handed the cup back and stood by him silently, but instead of looking at the fire, she held his gaze, which never left her. "Are you ever going to talk to me?"

"Is there something in particular we need to talk about, Princess?" he said with a half smile. "'Cause it seems to me that we talk all the time."

Clarke resisted the urge to grind her teeth together in frustration. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" he asked one eyebrow quirking upwards. "I suppose the real question is what do you think we need to talk about?"

She gave him her best no nonsense look.

"Suddenly you have nothing to say?" he teased, completely unintimidated by her.

"Bellamy..."

"Tell you what, Princess. How about we talk over dinner."

"Dinner," she said doubtfully.

He shrugged one shoulder and smirked at her. "Yeah."

After dinner he walked her to her tent. Clarke looked up at him, her face softened by a smile. They had talked, about a variety of topics, but he hadn't taken the opportunity to tell her that his feelings for her might have changed or that he wanted something different from their relationship.

"So tomorrow the last group moves into the new structure," he said, looking at the looming wood structures that dwarfed the few tents that remained.

"Yeah."

"Including you."

"And you," she replied. They'd decided to move into the last structure, partly so everyone else was taken care of first, and partly because it was more towards the center of camp where they could keep a handle on things more easily.

"So we'll be neighbors," Bellamy said. Her smile widened and Bellamy smiled back at her. "So that talk..."

"Yeah..." she said with a faint smile, wondering what he would say (if he ever actually got around to it).

"I don't think now is a good time-"

"Seriously, Bellamy?" she sighed, tilting her head to the side with a look of exasperation. She'd thought once they were alone (or as alone as they were going to get in a small camp occupied by 80 odd teenagers) he'd finally say something.

"Maybe tomorrow."

Her jaw shifted forward stubbornly and she was about to open her mouth to argue when he reached out and cupped her jaw in his warm hand, his thumb tracing over her cheek in a gentle caress that stole her words.

"Tomorrow. Maybe," he reiterated.

She watched as he walked away from her, disappearing into the darkness.

-The 100-

Bellamy trudged through the frigid darkness, back towards camp after a long day of hunting. They were expecting the first snowfall of the year and Bellamy had the hunters, scavengers and food gatherers out every day, going longer and longer distances from camp in a desperate effort to store up as much food as possible before it got too cold for them to stay out for more than a few hours at a time.

He was tired and cold, but knew his day was not over. Not only did they have another half hour of hiking left, but the third lodge had been completed that day and he wanted to move his stuff in that night. He was tired enough to just want to fall into bed, but the lure of sleeping in a warm bed was too powerful.

Entering camp, Bellamy dropped off the doe he'd carried on his back and turned towards his tent, only to find it gone. Assuming that they'd taken it down and just dumped his stuff in his room, Bellamy turned towards his new home in exasperation.

Entering the bedroom at the back he was surprised to find that everything was set up. His bed made, the items that had been on his table placed in approximately the same spot, even his clothes were laid over a chair, just as he'd had them in his tent. Smiling, Bellamy moved towards his bed, considering skipping the meal he probably needed, but he stopped suddenly. His gaze focused on the rough hewn wood wall, seeing a framed picture hanging there.

Moving closer he recognized Clarke's work. It was a sea battle drawn from the perspective of the commander standing on one of the ships. He knew exactly what it was, but if he needed more context the quote at them bottom clinched it. "I inherited brick and made it marble."

Bellamy turned and left the building abruptly making a beeline for the drop ship. Ignoring the few people who greeted him, he entered the makeshift med bay to find Clarke standing over a boy, talking to him reassuringly, her hands bloody.

She broke off mid sentence when she saw Bellamy striding towards her quickly. "Oh good, you're back, I-"

He interrupted her, his hands gripping her shoulders and pulling her close until her chest was pressed to his, his lips covering hers.  
Clarke let out a little yip of surprise, her hands fluttering at her sides, unable to touch him without transferring blood onto him.  
Pressing closer to him she parted her lips and Bellamy responded immediately, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and tasting her for the first time.

Uncaring that they had an audience, Clarke let Bellamy carry her away on a tide of emotion and sensation.

Finally he eased back from her , glancing at her bloody hands. "Problem I need to know about?"

"Head wound. Bleeds a lot, nothing serious," she answered, her expression dazed.

"Good," he replied with a smile, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and taking possession of her lips again.

Eventually she pulled away, stumbling back a few steps and giving him a warning look as he took a step to follow her. Walking unsteadily to a basin that held clean water, she quickly washed her hands, then dried them, doused them with a bit of alcohol and turned back to Bellamy, her stomach still fluttering madly but the rest of her body more or less under control.

"What-"

"Thanks for my gift," he interrupted her.

She arched one amused eyebrow at him the stepped into his embrace, sliding her hands up his arms and shoulders to curl around his neck, leaning her body into his. "You're welcome," she said just before she pressed her lips to his, enjoying the way his arms tightened around her.

After several more minutes, during which even the boy with the head would vacated the med bay, Bellamy and Clarke finally separated.

"We should talk," he said.

"Now?" she asked incredulously, even as she realized that she shouldn't be surprised. Bellamy was an 'act first' type of person. Which made his slow methodical approach to her all the more puzzling.

"Yeah. Now," he said grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the exit, wanting privacy if she was actually going to make him put his feelings into words and needing privacy if she let him show her how he felt instead of vocalizing it.

He turned back, his expression suddenly uncertain as she balked, pulling back and refusing to move.

Clarke smiled at his expression but wrapped her free hand over the wrist of the hand that was grasping hers, squeezing it lightly. Bellamy immediately released her, but before he could move away from her, she slid her hand against his, twining their fingers and stepping up beside him.

He frowned, but nodded quickly, understanding that she was setting the rules – he would not pull her along behind him, but she would walk alongside him of her own free will.

Exiting the drop ship, Clarke tried to ignore how many eyes were on them, resisting the urge to hide behind Bellamy's larger stature. Forcing herself to hold her head high, she looked around the group gathered around the campfire, meeting their gazes evenly.

She was sure that being with Bellamy, in a relationship on top of their leadership partnership, would come with complications, but she wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by her feelings or him.

-The 100-

Lying in his bed later that night, Bellamy looked up at the drawing she'd done for him. "The Battle of Actium, huh? I thought you said you didn't know much about Agustus."

"I didn't, I don't. You painted a pretty vivid picture."

"And the quote?"

"Octavia," she replied simply. She waited for him to ask about the quote, or the incongruity of a picture of battle being paired with a statement about nation building, but he didn't and she didn't explain, assuming correctly that he was more than capable of understanding the message she meant to send.

-The 100-

The End.

* * *

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End file.
